


heal (and tell me something lasts)

by TheBashfulPoet



Series: Andreil Week 2019 [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil Week 2019, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Canon, Sentimental Neil, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 07:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19741201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBashfulPoet/pseuds/TheBashfulPoet
Summary: Neil decides that he wants a sense of permanence in his life — something that will act as a reminder of where he’s been and the home he carved for himself with the foxes. Neil decides he wants a tattoo.Andreil Week Day Three: Tattoos





	heal (and tell me something lasts)

**Author's Note:**

> song:[ Heal - Tom Odell ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oFeJqnjF3o)

It starts with Matt and Dan. For their three year anniversary, they decide to do something crazy — something they both had never done before. The betting pool had started getting out of control when they first announced their plans, foxes both old and new throwing out suggestions left and right until Neil couldn’t keep them straight anymore. So, like he does with most of the betting shenanigans, Neil tunes them out and focuses on Exy (he thinks they have a pretty good shot at the championships this year and he would like to win it before the girls graduated). Maybe that’s how he missed the conclusion of everything because the next thing he knows Dan and Matt are sporting twin foxes in fresh black ink.

They are simple in design, nothing more than six lines shaped into the impression of a fox but on either side of the foxes face stood the number 01 and 04. Matt’s is placed on his chest, the fox taking up most of his left pectoral and standing front and center every time he took off his shirt or wore a low hanging tank top. Dan’s was a little more delicate, resting just below her left collar bone — smaller in size but no less prominent.

And for whatever reason, Neil finds his eyes inexplicably drawn to them — watching those black lines peek out from the collars of clothing, seeing how they twist with the movements of their bodies, how something so permanent and distinct marks them apart from everyone else. Perhaps that is why Neil becomes so fascinated with them, that they are distinct and noticeable and _memorable_.

Neil has been exactly 22 people in his life before he ever became Neil Josten and not a single one of those people were remotely close to memorable. In fact, he spent his entire life trying to be anything _but_. Being memorable meant people asking questions when he inevitably had to leave. It meant a trail of thoughts and gossip for his father’s men to follow their tracks. It meant death. And if he let himself become too recognizable — if people started to get close and ask too many questions — well then he had his mother to beat it out of him before uprooting their lives and disappearing into another city to start it all over again.

But Neil no longer had to run. He had a home, a sport he loved, and a family that knew him. He had Matt who knew that his favorite flavor of smoothie was strawberry banana and had one ready for him when they met up for lunch. He had Allison that cut his hair so it was long enough in the front to flop over his eyes because somedays he couldn’t stand to see his father’s eyes staring back at him in the mirror. He had Nicky who gossiped to him in Spanish about rude people on campus and bought him comfy grey sweaters with sleeves that go beyond his fingertips, so he doesn’t have to deal with the stares people give him. He has Andrew who knew him more than Neil ever knew he was capable of being known.

So when Dan and Matt came back with twin marks of permanence and memorability, Neil couldn’t help but stare — couldn’t help thinking about how it would be nice to have something like that himself. To have a permanent reminder of how real Neil Josten had become. He doesn’t tell anyone. Doesn’t utter a word about any of those things, just lets the thought fester and grow until it’s the first thought he has when he wakes up and the last thought before he goes to sleep. After nearly a months of this, Neil decides he wants a tattoo. His only problem is that he doesn’t know how to go about choosing a tattoo much less how to go about getting one (after all the only tattoo he’s ever had was one he doesn’t even remember getting nor did he exactly choose it). He turns to the only person who thinks he would get it.

***

To say Kevin is shocked when Neil bring it up during one of their late night practices is an understatement; he misses the shot by such a wide margin, Neil is sure if Andrew had been with them he would have made some scathing dry remark. As it was, there is only the sound of the ball bouncing off the ground as it comes to a slow stop a few feet from where they stand.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Why did you choose a chess piece?” But Kevin’s face still twists into confusion, so Neil thinks that maybe he said it wrong. He gestures to his own ruined cheek. “Your tattoo. Why choose that?”

Kevin’s hand automatically flies up to his cheek, fingers caressing where it hides beneath his helmet. “I… I told you when I got it. It’s the deadliest piece on the board and I wanted everyone to know that while I may have been in Riko’s shadow I wasn’t lesser.”

“No I mean…” he blows a breath in frustration. “ _Why_. Why choose a chess piece to mean that? How did you choose it.”

“Oh. _Oh_.”

Neil is ready to throttle him for an answer.

It must be clear because Kevin scoffs at him. “Don’t get huffy on me, you weren’t making any sense.”

“I was making perfect sense, shut up.”

“Do you want your answer or not?”

Neil shuts up.

“That’s what I thought,” Kevin says smugly. Neil almost throws the ball at his head. “Riko and I used to play a lot of chess between practices and offseason. Mas- _Tetsuji_ said it would help improve our strategy skills for games. We stopped playing regularly sometime before we officially joined the Ravens, but we always played a game or two when we couldn’t sleep.”

His voice trails off slightly as if remembering something. “And then Riko started calling himself King and I guess it just stuck out in the back of my mind when I went into the shop.”

Neil takes a moment and thinks about what he just said. “So you didn’t really think about it. You just went in and chose right then and there.”

“I was pretty drunk,” Kevin admits, “Really I just knew that I wanted Riko’s number gone and something else in its place that wouldn’t chain me to his shadow.”

“But it still chains you to him,” he points out. “You said that it was a game you and Riko played together, so in a way didn’t you replace reminder with another?”

Kevin doesn’t answer him right away, a silence so heavy falling over the court that Neil thinks he may have pushed too far — said the wrong thing and cut Kevin deeper than he meant. It wasn’t Neil’s intention; he just wanted to know — to _understand_.

“Before Riko broke my hand, before he turned into the psychopath that he was,” Kevin answers softly, “Before any of that he was my brother and I loved him.”

A pause.

“Somedays I wish we could have gone back to being so.”

Neil doesn’t know what to say to that so he says nothing. Riko would never be anything more than the psychopath that tortured him for two weeks and sent his father’s men on him. But Kevin was different. Even as kids Neil could see the bond between the two of them — could understand that while Neil only ever saw Riko’s malice and hatred, Kevin knew the brother Riko was before that. Neil doesn’t think will get it (at least not completely) but he can understand why Kevin might feel that way.

They fall back into practice after that, Neil not wanting to push the topic any further and Kevin is more than happy to let them lapse back into silence besides the occasional order or ridicule. Eventually, Neil is able to drag Kevin from the court around midnight and bully him into the shower before either of them could get back into Andrew’s car. As Neil stands under the hot spray of his own shower, he lets their previous conversation play over in his head.

He thinks about all the people in his life that have left their mark on him — some literally in certain cases — and wonders who he would ink into his skin. Thinks about what memories he would overwrite with others. He bends his head further under the spray until the water hits against the back of his neck and slides down his spine. The heat of it reminds him of Andrew’s hand squeezing there when Neil needs to be grounded back to reality, the way Andrew’s touch always lingers there long after it’s gone. When he exits the shower and walks back into the locker room to find Kevin waiting for him, he asks him if he still has the address for the shop he went to.

***

Andrew is on the couch when Neil gets back from his appointment, his legs spread out over the entire couch and his body draped in one of Neil’s baggy sweaters as he reads a book. Sunlight streams in through the window, soft yellow rays catching his blond hair and making the pale locks turn golden. Neil just stares at him for a moment, allowing himself to soak in the view of the comfortable slouch of Andrew’s shoulders and the soft blankness of his face as his eyes track the words on the page. He feels his chest bubble with a familiar warmth and his neck burns.

“Staring,” Andrew says without looking up.

Neil smiles and closes the door, not bothering to deny it as he kicks off his shoes and shuffles further into the living room. When he reaches the foot of the couch he asks, “Yes or no?”

Andrew looks up then, eyebrow arching ever so slightly before he lifts his arms in a silent yes for Neil to lay himself down next to him. Neil’s smile only grows and that warmth in his chest spreads to the rest of his body. He wastes no time slotting himself to Andrew’s side, wiggling an arm underneath Andrew’s back and the other carefully draping across his chest, all the while carefully glance at his face for a hint of a no. When he doesn’t see one, he carefully lays his head down in the crook of his neck and inhales. Andrew smells of aftershave, coffee, and cigarettes. It’s Neil’s favorite scent.

His arms settle back down around Neil, propping the book lower on his stomach so Neil could see the pages if he wanted to. “Matt came by looking for you. Said you missed lunch.”

Neil hums, “I texted him later that I got caught up with something. What are you reading?”

“Some thriller Nicky brought by.”

“Any good?”

Andrew hums, “Predictable but not the worst.”

Neil buries his face deeper into Andrew’s neck, smiling when he feels a little shiver going down Andrew’s spine. “Read it to me?”

Andrew scoffs but indulges him, the words slipping from his tongue in a dry monotone that relaxes Neil’s muscles and fill him with a sense of familiarity and safety as he feels the rumble of them beneath his ear and through his chest. He can feel his eyes starting to slip close, but Andrew doesn’t pause, only tucking Neil a little closer as he describes some woman looking around an abandon office building. Neil is almost asleep when his alarm goes off on his phone and he jolts awake. Groaning, he buries his face into Andrew’s chest in hopes of ignoring it.

“Turn it off,” Andrew tugs on his head.

“Mmrph,” he responds, but blindly digs for the phone regardless.

It takes a couple of tries but he is able to pull the device free from his pocket and slide the alarm off. Giving himself a few minutes longer of laying curled into Andrew’s warmth, he kisses the underside of his jaw before extracting himself carefully from his side. He sits up and runs his hands through his hair and moves to get up when Andrew’s hand stops him with a tug on his shirt.

“What’s that,” his fingers brush back the hair at the nape of his neck, revealing the bandage taped there.

Neil looks over his shoulder and smiles, “Come on I’ll show you. I need to clean it anyways.”

He doesn’t look behind him as he pushes himself off the couch and makes his way to the bathroom, but he knows Andrew trails behind him just the same. The back of his neck buzzes with anticipation and nervousness. Suddenly he wonders what Andrew will think of it, if he will hate it, if he would think Neil took this a step too far. Maybe he should have said something before he just went and did it. Maybe he could cover it up before Andrew sees. Kevin covered his up so it shouldn’t be too hard. Not to mention it didn’t even hurt so it’s not like it would be that much of a hassle to get it done again. Maybe-

Andrew squeezes his wrist. “Stop freaking out and just show me.”

Neil only hesitates for a moment longer, knowing that he has little choice now. So he reaches behind his neck and tugs on the edge of the bandage, carefully peeling the tape from his skin to lessen the burn. As his arm lowers, he turns around for Andrew to see the stark black outline of a key resting in the middle of his neck. He doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know that the teeth of it match the one sitting in his pocket perfectly. After all, the same pattern is burned into his fingers and palm from tracing it repeatedly over the years.

He can feel Andrew’s stare burning into the flesh, but the man says nothing. Neil starts to fidget under the weight of it until he can’t take it anymore and peeks over his shoulder at Andrew. His shoulders are stiff and his face carefully blank.

“You hate it,” Neil unconsciously starts to curl in on himself, raising a hand to cover it.

Andrew stops him. “No.”

Neil lets him bring his hand back down and tug him closer to the toilet. He lets himself be seated and maneuvered until Andrew can see the tattoo close enough that he feels the tickles of his breath on his skin. After a moment Andrew speaks again.

“I don’t hate it,” he repeats. “I just… I never figured you for the type.”

Neil shrugs, “I didn’t think so either.”

“Then what changed?”

“Dan and Matt. I saw their fox tattoos and I just… I wanted something like that too.”

Andrew snorts, “What a couple tattoo?”

“A reminder,” Neil says softly.

He turns around on the toilet seat until he faces Andrew again, his chin tilting back to meet his hazel eyes. “All my life people have left marks on me — have cut my skin to ribbons and carved their hatred and malice into my chest until my entire torso became topography of pain and stitches. I’ve been shot, cut, burned, and stitched back together more times than I can count and not once did I get a say in any of it. But this,” he gestures towards his neck, “for once I got to choose something to put on my skin.”

“And you chose a key.” He says it like he doesn’t know exactly what key it is Neil chose. Like it’s not the very same one he pressed into Neil’s palm that night so many months ago.

Neil lifts his hands towards Andrew’s jaw, fingers hovering a hairsbreadth away waiting for permission. When Andrew closes that final distance between, Neil runs his thumbs over his cheeks. “I chose a key.”

_I chose you_.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this was born from the fact that I got two new tattoos a few weeks ago and decided that my boy should share in the fun. Still, it's one of my favorites I've made for this week. 
> 
> Sidenote: does anyone know why Ao3 isn't copying over my italic formatting? Listen, my work is filled (probably too much) with italic emphasis and it's really a pain to go back and add them all in so if ao3 could stop doing that it'd be great...


End file.
